But the wild things cried, “Oh please don’t go – we’ll eat you up – we love you so!”

And Max said, “No!”

The wild things roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws but Max stepped into his private boat and waved goodbye.

Rest in peace, Maurice Sendak. Where the Wild Things Are was a book that I loved as a child, and one that my daughter loved in turn. I still have her copy, complete with crayon scribbles. We all have wanted to be the King of all Wild Things now and then.